


Magic At the Ball

by bibliosoph



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Yule Ball, costume contest, harry potter club, pining ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliosoph/pseuds/bibliosoph
Summary: Alex is a member of NYU’s Harry Potter club and he absolutely adores it except for, of course, fellow club member Henry who rubs him the wrong way.When the two of them are partnered for a costume contest at the end-of-semester Yule Ball dance, will Alex be able to put their differences aside to win?
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50
Collections: The Firstprince Secret Snowflake Exchange





	Magic At the Ball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Princecess_Nales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princecess_Nales/gifts).



Alex sits at one of the long, crowded tables in the meeting room, drumming his fingers against the wood as he waits impatiently for the meeting to start. In the GroupMe message, he got about this, Jean said they had a “very important announcement” and that everyone had better be on time for it. So, of course, Alex showed up five minutes early to get a good seat by the projector, waiting for the meeting to start to hear this oh-so-important news. When Jean tells people to be on time, they really mean that they want everyone here _early_. Normally that means that Jean themselves arrives early, too, and usually with snacks, but they’re running late today. The meeting was supposed to start three minutes ago and there’s no sign of them anywhere. Instead, people are talking amongst themselves, sharing their theories and guesses as to what this big announcement is.

Even though Henry is seated across the room, Alex keeps hearing bits and pieces of his conversation with the girl to his left––it’s hard not to hear his British accent floating among all of the American ones. He’s the secretary of the club, too, so Alex figures that he probably has good insider information that he’s sharing with Laurie but, unfortunately, Alex can’t quite make out every word he’s saying. It’s probably for the best, anyway, because Alex absolutely _despises_ Henry. Ever since they first met at that dreaded club fair, Alex can’t stand the sight of him, let alone when he speaks at these meetings. The only thing he’s good for is glaring at and trying to pry information out of, only one of which Alex is really succeeding at right now.

Suddenly, the lights turn off. People gasp and whisper to each other as they try and figure out of someone should turn them back on or if maybe there’s a blown fuse somewhere when, before they can get anything done, music starts playing, too. It’s a waltz-sounding tune––something made for elegant dancing. The projector switches on, a blank blue screen on it, and Jean appears in front of it, smiling.

“What’s up, Potterheads?” they greet, waving to the rest of the club members.

The room erupts in cheers, all happy to finally get this meeting going. Alex whoops and claps his hands together, eager to hear the announcement and absolutely living for Jean’s dramatics.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” they continue, “but I promise it’s worth it. So, without further ado, I’m happy to announce that, this year, the NYU Potter Alliance will be hosting, for the first time ever, it’s very own Yule Ball.”

The members roar in excitement and Alex cheers along with them, slightly annoyed to just see Henry smiling smugly in his seat––that bastard totally knew what was coming. It’s not even like he was _voted_ to be secretary––why should he get to know all of the insider information just because Jean deemed him worthy enough to be on the council? It makes Alex’s blood boil.

“Thanks to the many bake sales and fundraising stuff you guys have done, we’ve been able to rent out a killer space at the Dream Downtown hotel. We’ll have live music, kick-ass food, drinks, dancing and, most importantly, a costume contest.”

The room gasps, clearly excited about this.

Jean nods. “Yeah, you heard that right: a costume contest. You’ll each be assigned a partner to dress up with for it so bring your wands, your owls, or whatever you want––just know that our panel of judges will be watching and scoring you accordingly.”

“What do the winners get?” someone shouts from the other side of the room.

Jean gestures to Henry who stands, clears his throat, and makes his way to the front of the room. When he gets to the front by Jean, Jean throws an arm around him and grins. “You can thank the Fox family for their generous prize donation,” they beam, “which is…” they turn to Henry.

Henry smiles nervously and swallows. “It’s, erm, and all-expenses paid trip to Harry Potter world in Orlando,” he explains.

Jean claps him on the shoulder, smiling proudly. “Aw, isn’t he modest? It’s Windsor Enterprises and their generous donation of the trip that made this all possible.”

The room claps again while Alex scowls at Henry and his stupid face and his stupid expensive clothing. Of course _he_ gets a round of applause for just using his family’s money––which he didn’t even work to earn––and all of the attention. It’s infuriating how everyone just adores him for his blond hair and his sparkling blue eyes and his terrible British accent. He doesn’t deserve any praise or attention, just like he doesn’t deserve to be the club secretary. Everything in his life has been handed to him––he probably can’t even make his bed without a maid’s help.

Henry smiles nervously, bows his head, and goes back to his seat. The applause finally dies down a moment later, already having gone on much longer than it should have, and Jean takes control of the room again.

“Okay,” Jean says, holding up a piece of paper, “these are your pairings for the Yule Ball. You and your partner can come up with whatever costume you want but, most importantly, you _can’t_ trade partners. The judges will have a list of who goes with who so, if you don’t love your buddy, well, tough.” With a dramatic turn, Jean turns and pastes the list on the wall behind them. They leave a moment later which is when the rest of the club jumps out of their chairs to check the list. Alex waits for the stampede to die down a bit, instead choosing to entertain himself by looking at everyone’s reactions to the pairings while he waits. When most of the crowd has dispersed and only a few other members linger by the paper, he gets out of his chair and makes his way to the list to see who he’s been paired with. He doesn’t know who he’s hoping for or if he’s even hoping for someone in particular––he just wants to be partnered with someone who, like him, is hellbent on winning this thing.

It takes him a moment to find his name because, unfortunately, the list doesn’t appear to be in any sort of order. When he finally stumbles across his name, located about two thirds of the way down the page, he blinks at the menacing black ink that seals his fate: Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox-Windsor.

He rubs his eyes, sure that he’s reading this completely wrong. When he looks at the list again, though, it doesn’t change. It still says, clear as day, that his partner is fucking _Henry_.

Desperately, he rushes to the door, pushing past the other people still lingering in the room, and sprints out into the hallway to find Jean. He finds them talking to Henry by an activities bulletin in the hallway, the two of them laughing about something on Henry’s phone.

“Jean,” he says, a bit breathlessly from the running, “can I talk to you for a second?”

Jean frowns but nods, following him over to the corner of the hallway so Henry is out of earshot. Honestly, though, he doesn’t really care if that dickwad overhears this conversation––he gives absolutely zero shits about Henry’s feelings.

Jean folds their arms across their chest and raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s up, Alex?”

“I need you to change my partner,” Alex demands. “I can’t go to the dance with fucking _Henry_.”

Jean stares at him for a moment, clearly taken aback by his, admittedly, childish outburst. They just don’t understand how _evil_ Henry is, though––how his stupid eyes, hair, accent, charm, and wealth make Alex’s insides twist uncomfortably every time he _thinks_ about Henry, let alone _sees_ or _talks_ to him. There’s no way he’ll be able to survive the dance with Henry by his side. Plus, if they do, by some miracle, actually end up _winning_ , there’s no way he’ll be able to stomach spending his blessed time at Harry Potter World with Henry there, too.

“Alex,” Jean sighs, scrubbing a tired hand over their face, “I literally said that you can’t change partners.”

“I’ll do it by myself, then,” Alex suggests, hoping it’ll fly.

Jean scowls at him. “You’re going with Henry,” they say decisively, “end of discussion. And, if you want to win, I suggest you go talk to him and get started.”

Before Alex can say anything else, Jean turns on their heels and walks away. Alex is left staring at their back as he wonders what fucking god he pissed off to deserve such an unfair pairing for the Yule Ball. He must have been a murderer in a past life or something––he must have been the absolute worst person on the planet to deserve this terrible misfortune of having to deal with Henry for the next two weeks before the dance.

Swallowing down the angry, disgusted bile in his throat, he rolls up his sleeves and stomps over to where Henry is standing in the hallway, talking to a girl with long hair now that Jean’s gone. Alex goes right up to them and clears his throat, hoping that he’s ruining Henry’s chances of getting a date with this girl he’s clearly flirting with.

“Henry,” he says, trying to make this voice sound at least semi-threatening, “so we’re partners for this dance, huh?”

Henry turns to look at him, his blue eyes wide and his cheeks pink. Alex hopes that he’s embarrassing him in front of this girl. “I––erm, yes?”

Alex narrows his eyes at him. “I wanna make something clear, _sweetheart_ ,” he hisses. He takes a step closer to him and finds himself having to tilt his head up a bit to look at his face––stupid fucking height difference. “I plan on winning this, you got it?”

Henry presses his lips into a thin line and nods.

“Good,” Alex huffs, taking a step back. He holds out one of his hands. “Now give me your phone.”

Henry swallows nervously. “My––my _phone_?”

Alex is _this_ close to punching him. “Yeah, your phone. We’ll need a way to communicate, right?”

Henry furrows his stupid perfect brows. “I already have your number,” he manages, looking a bit like he might piss his stupid pants, “from the, erm, groupchat?”

For a moment, Alex just blinks back at him, completely lost. Then, a moment later, it all clicks into place. He takes another step back and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Oh, right,” he says. “Text me and we’ll figure out a time to meet.”

Before Henry can open his stupid mouth and say anything else, Alex turns and walks away from him, marching down the hallway like a man on a mission. This will be, he thinks, the worst experience of his life so far. The fact that he has to do this with Henry is so beyond annoying that he can’t even find a vile enough adjective to describe it but, for the sake of winning, he’s willing to try and put all (or some) of his negatives feelings about the bastard aside. Maybe he’ll hate Henry a lot less when he can ditch him in sunny Orlando at Harry Potter World instead of just in a stuffy college corridor.

***

Logically, he knows that the two weeks will likely fly by. He’s got a lot on his plate right now––exams, final papers, and his classes. The only problem––well, not the _only_ problem, of course––is that he’s a perfectionist, especially when it comes to stuff like this. If there’s a contest, he’ll stop at nothing to win, even if his partner just so happens to be Henry the fucking jerkface. So, in Alex fashion, he’s planning to spend whatever extra time he has in the day working tirelessly on their costumes which is why he’s currently angry-glaring at his phone as he waits for Henry to text him.

It’s only been two days since they got paired together but, of course, each fucking second counts. Now, instead of fourteen days, they only have twelve. Twelve days to figure out what characters they want to be, buy everything they need, and make the costumes. It’s hardly enough time, especially when he factors in everything else he’s got going on, and if Henry doesn’t text him about it soon, he might just lose his goddamn mind.

“What’d it do to you?” Nora asks, popping a handful of fries in her mouth.

It snaps him back to reality––he looks up from his phone. “What?”

“Your phone,” she explains. “What did it do to you? You look like you’re one second away from smashing it into the table.”

He rolls his eyes and tucks his phone back in his pocket. “Nothing,” he mumbles, putting his elbow down on the greasy table and resting his head in his hand. “Just waiting for a text.”

Nora waggles her eyebrows. “Oo, juicy.”

“Not _juicy_ ,” he huffs, “just annoying. That dickwad Henry and I got paired for the Yule Ball dance.”

“Oh, right, the one for the Harry Potter club thing.”

He nods helplessly.

“Why don’t you just text him first?”

“I don’t have his number saved.”

It’s more than likely that Henry texted his name when he sent his first text in the club’s group chat but, because Alex gives absolutely zero shits about him, he didn’t care to save the contact. He supposes he could just scroll through the chat to find it but, since they’re all a bunch of over-excited Harry Potter nerds, there would be _way_ too many texts to get through until he got to the beginning. It’s way too much effort but, then again, so is waiting for this pompous ass to just _text_ him. Does he want to fail? Is this his way of getting back at Alex for all of the mean glares and not-so-under-his-breath comments?

“What’s the big deal?” Nora asks before taking a sip of her milkshake.

“The winners get an all-expenses paid trip to Harry Potter World,” he sighs. “And I really wanna win but he’s making it so fucking difficult.”

“I’m sure he’ll text you back,” she says.

He pouts and angrily sucks on his milkshake, just hoping that she’s right. If Henry screws this up for him, he’s going to be pissed––he just really wants to win. He wants to show everyone that he’s the biggest Harry Potter fan and that he’s crafty enough to come up with the best costume––also, he’d really like to go to Harry Potter World.

“He’s going to ruin this for me,” he growls, “I just know it.”

“Why do you hate him so much?” Nora inquires, looking at him like she knows something he doesn’t.

He shrugs, unable to pinpoint a specific reason. It’s everything, really: his stupid blond hair, his ridiculously blue eyes, his stupid posh accent…it’s everything about him that makes Alex’s skin crawl and his face feel hot. He just _hates_ him––does he really need a specific reason?

“If you don’t even know why you hate him––”

“I just _do_ , okay?” Alex snaps. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head in apology. “Sorry, I just…I really can’t stand him and having to be paired with him is stressing me out.”

Nora smiles softly and holds out a fry. “Peace offering?”

He looks down at the fry and takes it gladly, popping it into his mouth.

***

Henry ends up texting him the next day, thankfully. The text comes while he’s in class so he doesn’t see it until he gets out but, when he does, he feels relief wash over him. Even though they only have eleven days now, at least they can finally get fucking _started_. This time, he actually saves Henry’s number so he can text-harass him about this stupid collaboration that he wants no part of. He has a feeling that Henry is going to make this process extremely challenging for him––he’s probably the kind of guy who just expects his partner to do all of the work while he just casually shows up for the presentation without giving a single shit. Maybe he’s worse than that, actually––maybe he uses his stupid charm and dazzling smile to get himself a better grade that he doesn’t deserve. It’s the kind of pretentious prick that Alex hates the most.

Alex makes it very aggressively clear that Henry is to come to his place the following day in the evening. He also makes it aggressively clear that Henry must bring pizza and that he won’t be allowed to leave until they figure out their costumes. Henry agrees––likely because he knows that Alex can and _will_ kick his ass otherwise––and comes over the next day with pizza in hand.

Alex’s apartment is a terrible mess but he at least _tried_ to clean up a bit, just so Henry can’t give him any shit about the clutter. At least the table’s clear, though, so they have space to sit and work on their costumes.

At first, Alex can’t just help but glare at Henry as he steps into the apartment––it feels like a violation of Alex’s space and privacy. Even though he’s the one who invited Henry here, it still makes his skin itch a bit to see Henry looking around at the apartment like it’s the most interesting place he’s ever been––like he’s never been in a home that isn’t a fucking palace or something.

“Nice place,” Henry observes, looking around at the colorful trinkets and objects scattered around the kitchen. “Very…lived in.”

Alex scoffs a bit before he has time to shove it down for the sake of just banging this out and getting rid of Henry. When he notices his slip, he clears his throat and looks away. “Yeah, thanks. You can just put the pizza on my _lived in_ table.”

Henry’s stupid mouth opens, his pink lips parted with his blue eyes wide and bright. “I didn’t––”

“It’s fine,” Alex sighs, waving it off. “Just…let’s get this over with.”

Henry starts saying something––or at least goes through the motions of looking like he’s about to speak––but then closes his mouth and takes a seat at the little wooden table. He sets the pizza down on the center of the table and opens the lid, revealing plain cheese pizza. Alex stares at it for a moment, completely vexed. The pompous rich guy couldn’t afford fucking toppings?

Henry must notice his grimace because he raises one of his stupidly perfect-shaped eyebrows at him. “Something wrong?”

Alex shakes his head. “Nope. Let’s just…get to work.”

They spend an hour going over all of the possible character choices and come up empty. Henry refuses to wear a wig and Alex refuses betray his loyalty to his House––he demands that he go as a Gryffindor character. It’s a painful hour and Alex wants to pull his hair out the whole time because he still can’t _believe_ he got stuck with this arrogant asshat for a partner.

“Okay,” he snaps, his fingers tugging through his surely mussed-up hair, “Harry and Draco.”

Henry stares at him for a moment. “As in _you_ would be Harry and I––”

“Would be the rich jerk who hates me? Yeah.”

Something flickers across Henry’s face for a moment––his lips are downturned and his eyes look almost sad. It’s a good thing Alex gives zero shits about his feelings. “Okay,” he says, voice monotone. “That works.”

Alex sighs in relief, his entire body relaxing with the knowledge that Henry is about to leave his apartment. “Great. We’ll set up a time to get the stuff to make the costumes or whatever.”

Henry nods in agreement and, a moment later, Alex is practically shoving him out the door. The moment he’s gone, Alex relaxes and pours himself a big drink––he’s fucking earned it for having to put up with Henry for so long. 

As he nurses his whiskey, his mind supplies images of that emotion that briefly flickered over Henry’s sharp features––the curl of his lip, the sadness in his eyes. It’s just the whiskey that’s making him think about this, of course. It’s just the whiskey that’s making him feel a bit bad for calling Henry out like that. Just the whiskey.

***

The next time they meet, it’s at a craft store. It’s a bit busier than Alex thought it would be but, he supposes, it _is_ nearing the holidays. December is bound to be a chaotic time no matter what and, as it seems, that extends to fucking craft stores, too. They find each other easily, though, because Henry is impossible to miss in his head-to-toe Burberry and with his windswept blond hair that somehow looks _perfectly_ windswept like it was styled for a movie or something. Alex forces a smile on his face as he waves at him and walks over to him, not expecting Henry to be the one to make an effort.

“What exactly are we getting here?” Henry asks him.

“Getting groceries,” Alex deadpans. “We’re at a craft store, Henry. What do you _think_ we’re getting?”

Henry flushes. It’s good to know that, despite his stupid posture and his posh accent, he’s actually capable of feeling emotions. “I just thought that we would purchase our costumes,” he mumbles, “not make them by hand.”

Alex rolls his eyes and starts walking toward the fabric section in the back of the store, hoping that Henry is following him but not caring enough to actually turn around and check. “I told you I wanted to win, didn’t I?”

“Well, _yes––_ ”

“Then shut up and help me pick out fabrics.”

Henry doesn’t say anything else.

Alex smiles smugly, happy to have put him in his place.

When they get to the massive fabric section, Alex pulls out his phone to look at the reference pictures he got from online. Since it’s a Yule Ball, he’s decided that they should go as their characters went to their own so, in the spirit of that, Alex will be wearing a black suit and Henry will be wearing a white one. He shows the picture to Henry, just so he has an idea of what they’re looking for, before he goes off to try and find good fabrics for the outfits with Henry following quietly at his heels.

“How about this one for mine?” he asks, pulling a roll of black, silky fabric from the rack to show Henry.

Henry bites his lip but doesn’t say anything.

Alex quirks an eyebrow at him. “What, not good enough?”

Henry blinks back at him.

“You can talk now,” Alex says, rolling his eyes.

“Okay,” Henry says, taking a step forward. He reaches out and runs a bit of the fabric through his fingers––Alex notices how long his fingers are. His nails are short and neat and there’s a callous on one of his fingers. From the looks of it, it’s from writing by hand––Alex has a smaller one himself. “This will be impossible to work with.”

“What?”

Henry gestures to the fabric. “The silk might feel nice,” he says, “but it will be a bloody _nightmare_ in the machine.”

Alex stares at him, completely baffled. “I’m sorry, do you, like, _know_ about sewing?”

“Do you not?”

Alex shakes his head. He doesn’t have a clue but he was hoping to just borrow June’s machine and figure it out as he went along. He was also planning on buying an exorbitant amount of fabric to smooth over any mistakes he would probably make.

Henry chuckles. It’s deep and, if it wasn’t Henry’s, Alex would probably think that it actually sounded _good_. Vacantly, his brain supplies the word “velvet” to describe it.

“Then how, exactly, were you planning on actually making the costumes?”

He shrugs and feels his cheeks on fire. “I dunno, figure it out as I went along?”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Henry admonishes, his nose scrunching a bit as if the thought is so _vile_ that it makes him sick. “Also, didn’t you say that you wanted to _win_?”

Alex glares at him. “Okay, so what’re you suggesting?”

“For starters,” Henry smiles, “ _I_ should pick the fabrics. Then I can take them to my flat and sew everything there––it shouldn’t be too difficult since I’ve already got suit patterns.”

Alex doesn’t really know what a “pattern” is or why his face is getting so warm at the thought of Henry hunched over a sewing machine, those nimble fingers of his quick and steady as he runs the fabric through the needle bit, but he _does_ know that he doesn’t trust Henry as far as he can throw him. Which, given their height difference, would probably not be far at all.

“I’m coming over while you sew,” Alex counters, “because I wanna make sure you don’t purposefully fuck this up.”

Henry stares at him for a moment, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Alright,” he says, “deal.”

***

The first time Alex goes over to Henry’s place, he brings pizza with real toppings. It’s half because he’s starving and half because he wants to show Henry that, unlike him, he’s kind enough to spend the extra cash to give the pizza a bit of fucking _flavor_. Henry doesn’t even eat the pizza, though, because he says he doesn’t want his hands greasy while he’s dealing with the fabrics.

“Before we get started,” Henry says, “I need to take your measurements.”

Alex lets Henry guide his body into the proper positions for measurement-taking, only blushing slightly when he feels Henry’s gentle hands brush against him. Henry measuring his inseam is especially breathtaking––regrettably, he feels himself get a bit hard as Henry’s fingers dance up his inner thighs. He holds his breath, trying to calm himself down. It’s not because Henry’s touching him––it’s just because this is honestly the closest thing he’s gotten to any sort of action in a while, since he’s been way too busy with schoolwork and stressing about this stupid dance and contest.

“You can breathe, you know,” Henry tells him, standing up and going over to his desk to write down the measurements.

“I know,” Alex huffs, relaxing his body.

He watches as Henry finishes writing down the measurements and heads over to his sewing table in the corner. He fiddles with the threads for a moment before he sits down and pulls out the fabric for his own suit which, it seems, has already been cut up so it’s ready to be sewn.

“You can take a seat,” Henry tells him, smiling a bit crookedly as he gestures to the big, leather sofa in the center of the room. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Alex nods and grabs his bag, bringing it over to the sofa with him. He brought some homework with him so he’d have something to do while Henry worked. Now, though, he’s feeling like it might be hard for him to tear his eyes away from Henry to focus on his work.

***

The next time Alex goes to Henry’s, he’s greeted by a beagle at the door. It jumps on his legs, pawing at his knees to get his attention. He smiles and crouches down to give it a good scratch behind the ears.

A moment later, Henry’s head pokes out from down the hall. “Oh, sorry about him,” he says, stepping into the hallway and scooping the dog up in his arms. “I do hope you’re not allergic––I can put him away.”

Alex stands and smiles at him. “I like dogs,” he says, “I just didn’t know you had one.”

Henry beams and pets the dog’s head. “His name’s David,” he says. “My friend Pez was with him last time––he likes taking him to the park to meet people.”

Alex chuckles. “You named your dog _David_?”

Henry frowns at him, seeming a bit offended. “After Bowie!” he protests.

Alex raises an eyebrow at him. “You like Bowie?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Of course I like Bowie,” he huffs, sticking his chin out. “I’m a gay Brit––it would be treasonous not to.”

Alex stares at him, eyes wide.

He didn’t know Henry was gay. He had absolutely no idea. Should he have noticed that? Is this one of those times where he’s just completely oblivious?

Henry flushes and looks down at David nervously like he can’t even make eye contact with Alex anymore after that admission. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I––”

“ _Hey_ ,” Alex says, trying to pull Henry’s eyes back to his own. It works––Henry looks at him with those stupid, blue eyes of his. “I don’t care. I’m bi––I get it.”

“I didn’t know you were bi,” Henry says, his cheeks even pinker now.

Alex laughs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Why would you? It’s not like we’re friends.”

Henry’s face falls again.

There’s no whiskey to blame this time––the guilt he feels pang through his chest is completely his own.

“Sorry,” he says, “I didn’t––”

“It’s fine,” Henry says, setting David down on the floor. He clears his throat. “Let’s just…get to work.”

He starts to turn around but Alex grabs his elbow before he can walk away, turning him around to face him once more. “I want to,” Alex tells him truthfully. “Be friends, I mean.”

Henry’s pained expression turns into a smile. “I’d like that, too,” he agrees.

Alex smiles back at him.

***

Surprisingly, they really _do_ become friends. As it turns out, they have a lot in common. They both like Harry Potter, obviously, and writing, and reading, and they often get into heated debates about historical events or fandom things. Henry also likes _Star Wars_ , which is a fun fact that Alex is more than excited to talk to him about. By the end of it, Alex doesn’t even bring his backpack over anymore––the two of them just talk for hours while Henry works tirelessly at the machine.

“The dance is tomorrow,” Henry tells him, putting his final touches on Alex’s suit.

“That reminds me,” Alex says, going over to the little shopping bag he brought with him. He grabs something from inside of it and holds it out to Henry. “I made you this. I didn’t want to be a total slacker and just let you do everything.”

Henry takes his foot off the pedal and takes it in his hands. It’s a wand that’s styled after Draco’s. Alex hates to brag but he thinks that, objectively, he fucking crushed it.

“This is amazing,” Henry marvels, turning it over in his hands.

Vacantly, Alex wonders how those fingers would feel on his dick.

“Thanks,” Alex manages, clearing his throat in an effort to hide his blush. “I’m glad you like it. And, really, it’s the least I could do since you made both of the suits.”

“You’re the one who kept me company,” Henry grins. “Honestly, I’m going to miss having you over once the dance is done.”

Henry sets the wand down and gets back to work.

Alex stares at him for a moment, completely lost. Does Henry think that Alex will go back to just glaring at him from across the room? Does Henry think that their newfound friendship will just end when the dance does? He’s grown to really care for Henry––he wants to keep him in his life as long as he can. He wants to make up for the time they lost when he was a stubborn idiot.

“I wanna keep coming over,” he admits, “after the dance. If that’s, uh, okay with you.”

Henry’s hands freeze for a moment before he looks up at Alex with a sparkle in his eyes that makes Alex’s knees feel slightly weak. “I’d like that.”

***

They arrive separately to the dance but meet up outside of the ballroom. Alex is leaning against the wall, playing a game on his phone, as he waits for Henry to show up.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice says, “I’m here.”

Alex looks up.

For a moment, he forgets how to speak. How to _breathe_.

Henry looks _beautiful_ in his suit. His hair is slicked back, too, just like Draco’s, and he’s got his wand in hand like he’s about to fucking storm the ballroom and take it by force like some sort of wizard James Bond. The sight of Henry in this beautiful, handmade suit makes Alex want to push him against the wall and kiss him senseless.

“Wow,” he manages after a moment, “you look…really nice.”

Henry smiles that private, crooked smile. “You look fantastic,” he gushes. “Your seamstress is a genius. Extremely talented.”

Alex rolls his eyes and playfully nudges Henry in the ribs. “Does the scar look okay? And the glasses?”

“They look perfect,” Henry nods, still smiling.

Henry offers Alex his elbow and, together, the two of them walk into the ballroom.

It’s crowded but fun inside and, almost instantly, Alex gravitates to the dance floor. He loses Henry in the chaos as he dances with someone dressed like Dumbledore and someone dresses like Ron. He loses track of time, honestly, because he’s just having too much fun with these other wonderful nerds around him.

“Okay,” the DJ says, “grab a partner and hold ‘em close.”

Alex looks up at the speakers, a bit confused, until a slow song starts to play. The other people on the dance floor couple up and start slow dancing. Alex, partnerless, turns to just go grab some food or something until the fun music comes back on, but someone taps his shoulder behind him.

He turns and sees Henry standing there, smiling nervously at him. “Harry,” he says, “could I have this dance?”

Alex nods and takes his hand, letting Henry lead him in any way he’d like. Slow dances aren’t exactly Alex’s area of expertise, so he’s more than happy to just follow Henry around.

“You’re really good at this,” he notes, marveling at how smooth Henry’s movements are.

“Only because I have such a good partner,” Henry smiles.

Silence falls over them as they sway to the music.

Alex can hear his heart pounding as they dance, completely aware of the minimal space between them and the scent of Henry’s cologne. There are absolutely no excuses to make for how he feels right now––there’s no whiskey, no faking kindness, no inseam measurements. There’s nothing but the fact that Alex was so terribly _wrong_ about Henry in the beginning and, right now, he wants nothing more than to just reach up and kiss him.

He looks up at Henry––into those now-familiar blue eyes of his––and tries to find the words to tell him how _beautiful_ he looks. How amazing his mind is. How nimble his fingers are.

Whatever words he could have thought of, though, are snuffed out by Henry’s lips on his own.

He kisses Henry back, keeping it sweet and soft and gentle. He pours all of his feelings into the kiss, hoping Henry can feel everything he’s trying to say. And, based on how Henry smiles into the kiss, he thinks that he can.

As it turns out, there’s magic at the Yule Ball after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!!!
> 
> Also, in case it wasn't clear: Alex and Henry obviously win the costume contest and get to go on a very cute trip to Orlando together! Lots of kisses and pictures on that trip!!!
> 
> <3<3


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